I write the B-sides That make a small portion of the world cry I like the seaside And singing songs that make you not wanna die Throw a stone into the sea And wait for it to come back to me Better get out on the boat Cause someone told me that stones don`t float
I like to sit out back And look up at the squirrels in the trees They don`t like radio tracks And they don`t ever talk down to me Throw a nod up in the tree (?) Gonna fall right back on me Well these guys know who they are And what they need`s in their own backyard
Oooh oooh
I like to flay in snow I stick my hand in, now where did it go It might be mighty cold But that`s all part of not doing what you`re told
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